I don't have anything to say that isn't of the bitching ilk. Instead I give you this poem that, although it is written in my hand on the back of a scrap of paper with the logo of a company I where I temped nearly 12 years ago, I have no memory of writing.

The Absent Minded Poet.

How do I love thee?
I wish I could remember.
Let's see...
Your eyes are like
Those things up
In the darkness at night.
Your smile fills me
With a queezy, dizzy,
Flu-symtom-like feeling.
Your nose I don't recall at all.
Your hair -- oh your hair!--
Tis akin with strands of
Finest spun...spinnings.
How do I love thee?
(shug)
...
I'm sorry what was I saying?

RAL 12/15/89